Soul of the Prophet: The Elder of Edon Book I

by David Angelo

  Soul of the Prophet

  SOUL OF THE PROPHET:

  THE ELDER OF EDON

  BOOK I

  DAVID ANGELO

  Copyright © 2021 by David Angelo

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 979-8-708-24780-3

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  1

  A GENTLE BREEZE BLEW through Blizzard’s scales as she glided over the surface of an endless ocean. The water rippled in the wake of her wings, frightening the many schools of fish that swam within its waves. They were not used to seeing dragons in this area of the world, or at all, for that matter. Dragons were increasingly rare in these days. Blizzard could see her reflection in the glassy surface; a large, white dragon with a pair of glowing blue eyes stared back.

  “This is the place,” she said and arched up, parting the waves in her wake. She flew toward the sky and disappeared into the clouds. Down below the water’s surface, there came a low rumble. It grew louder and louder, and then the water parted, and the peak of a jagged rock broke the surface. It was followed by a mass of slippery black stone, still covered in coral and seaweed and other artifacts from the ocean floor. The waves receded and settled along the edges, creating a shoreline around the rocky mound. Still moist, it twinkled in the light of the sun. The mound, which was the size of a small country, was barren and deprived of life, but Blizzard knew that this would soon be rectified. The clouds above parted, and Blizzard drifted downward. She flew over the mound, and grass grew, trees sprouted, and rivers and lakes sprang from every corner. Animals both large and small materialized and made themselves at home. By the time she had reached the northernmost edge, life had taken hold of the mound.

  “I shall call it Edon,” Blizzard said. She said it in a crisp voice that was calm but demanded authority and respect. She adjusted her trajectory and slowly came down. Blizzard opened her wings to their fullest extent and allowed herself to land softly in the center of a lush green valley. She folded her wings and looked up into the sky, letting the warm light of the sun kiss her face.

  “Storm, Gale, I’m ready for you,” Blizzard said.

  Almost immediately, a pair of dragons shot forth from the clouds and raced toward the valley. The oldest one was named Storm, a red serpentine dragon who cut through the air like an eel through water. A pair of whiskers dangled from beneath his nose, and his eyes glowed emerald green. His younger brother, Gale, flew next to him, a blue dragon with eyes of bright yellow. Gale’s face was similar to that of a bird’s; his nose and mouth were fashioned into the shape of a large, sharp beak. This helped the air part in front of him, and he rocketed past Storm. Gale landed with a thud in front of Blizzard, sending chunks of wet soil flying in his wake.

  “Ha! Beat you!” Gale said when his brother landed.

  “I was not aware that this was a race,” Storm replied.

  “Neither was I,” Blizzard added, wiping a piece of mud from her nose. “Even in times of hardship, Gale, you never cease to amaze me with your positive attitude.”

  Gale curled the corners of his mouth into a deceptively innocent smile. “I like to see the cup half-full,” he said.

  “Yet there is a difference between positivity and recklessness,” Storm countered.

  “Eh, maybe I was a little brash,” Gale replied. “But you have to admit, Storm, there’s no way you can’t be excited at a time like this. A new world has just been created, and we’ve been asked to build the two races who will inhabit it! This is a once-in-a-lifetime gig, brother of mine.”

  “Lest you forget why this land was built,” Storm said, “if only you were able to grasp such complexities, you wouldn’t be this excited.”

  “Gale is right,” Blizzard said. “Even though we have been through a great many trials of late, we must not be blind to the fact that this is a momentous occasion for all of us.”

  “I guess what you say is fact,” Storm said, lowering his head. “It’s just…”

  “What, my child?”

  Storm sighed. “I have yet to finish my grieving. So much was lost during the war, and I don’t think I will ever recover.”

  “You will, my child,” Blizzard said. “Rest assured, we’re all still a little shaken from the toils we’ve been forced to contend with. But if the trials don’t break us, we will become stronger because of them.” Blizzard paused and eyed her two children with anticipation. “Now, I’m sure you’ve had enough time to think about your designs for the two races, and I hope you’ve followed my requirements.”

  “About that,” Gale said. “Actually, it’s an issue both Storm and I have regarding the rules you put in place. You said that no matter what, the new dragons should not be able to fly, nor should they breathe fire or be taller than ten feet at the most.”

  Blizzard nodded. “Your point?”

  “If those are the parameters that we’re given,” Gale said, “how can they still be called dragons?”

  “Have you forgotten why there are only two of you now?” Blizzard asked. “Typhoon had the ability to fly and breathe fire, and look what happened. Therefore, as long as I am creator of dragons, the two of you and I will be the only ones of our species who can breathe fire and possess the gift of organic flight. This is for our own safety and the safety of our creations. Do I make myself clear?”

  Gale and Storm did not respond but humbly bowed their heads.

  “Good,” Blizzard replied. “Now, Gale, because you were first to arrive, would you show us what you have come up with?”

  “With pleasure,” Gale said. He stepped back, reared up, and inhaled deeply, then let loose a stream of yellow fire onto a spot near his feet. When his breathing had ceased, he let the fire burn until the last bits of flame had dispersed into the air. What was left was a strange-looking creature, one that prompted Blizzard to tilt her head in curiosity.

  Standing upright, in a pile of ash left over from the jet of fire, was a lean, scaly creature that stood about six feet tall in height. It had a long, bony tail lined with small spikes that ran up its spine and all the way to the base of its neck. The creature stood atop a pair of thick, muscular legs, with talon-like toes that reminded Blizzard of the feet of a falcon. Its arms were similar to its feet in that each of the five fingers sported a black claw. It had an oblong head and a pointed snout, and the top of its skull was crowned with an ornate pair of bony spikes. The skin of Gale’s unusual creation was green, with yellow markings all up and down its body. Because the only thing it lacked was a soul or any sort of life force to allow it to sustain itself, the creature
could do nothing except stare blankly ahead through a pair of large, yellow eyes.

  “Interesting,” Blizzard said, looking the strange creature over. “You’ve always been the most creative of my children. What do you call it?”

  “I call it a Faranchie,” Gale said.

  Storm peered down and scrutinized the Faranchie. “Will they all look like that?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Gale said proudly. “Each one will look different from another, and no two will look exactly alike.”

  “I’ll allow it,” Blizzard said. “Now, what do you have for us, Storm?”

  Storm reared up and breathed a jet of green fire onto the ground, right next to the Faranchie mold. When the fire had subsided and the last wisps of flame had been extinguished, it left behind a creature who was strikingly different from its predecessor. Like the Faranchie, it, too, stood upright and sported a line of spines running down its back. But this creature lacked a tail and long talons on its hands or feet. In fact, the creature was much simpler in design, with a reptilian, almost snakelike head and a pair of small, pointed ears. Its skin was solid teal, with no markings whatsoever. It had a long, white mane growing out of the back of its neck. Like its cousin, it, too, stood as still as a statue, its beady little eyes resembling those of the dead.

  “Unlike my brother’s creation,” Storm explained, “my design, which I will call a Cullidon, will not change among individuals. Aside from a few small differences between each creature, they will look almost identical to others of their kind.”

  “Oh, please,” Gale said. “At least try to be a little more creative.”

  “Brother of mine,” Storm said, “there is a time and a place to take risks. But today is neither the time nor the place for risky maneuvers when it comes to the creation of a species. I don’t know what you were thinking when you thought up that Faranchie design, with its radical complexities and its bizarre look.”

  “And your Cullidon looks like you spent less than a minute crafting it,” Gale retorted. “Like I said and will continue to say, those who take risks reap the rewards, and it does not appear that you, Storm, are going to be reaping much of anything with that last-minute mash-up.”

  “Enough,” Blizzard snapped. “I will allow it, but in the future, I expect both of you to get along with each other if you expect these two races to forge a society. Remember that, starting at the very moment I breathe life into their bodies, they will be on their own. No longer will we have physical contact with them, except during the most extreme of circumstances and when we have exhausted every other alternative. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Gale and Storm said in subdued unison.

  “Very well,” Blizzard said, satisfied. “Gale, take your Faranchie to the far south, and Storm, take your Cullidon to the most northerly parts. Turn them back into the preforms that I specified, put them in the sea, and create more so that they can reproduce and spread their kind throughout Edon. When you are done, give me a sign, and I will grant them the ability to live. When everything is finished, the two races will emerge from the ocean and evolve to explore beyond their original boundaries. Then they will meet here, in Edon’s center, and unity between the races will be achieved.”

  “Will do,” Gale said as he and his brother departed with their molds to their respective locations.

  By herself, Blizzard took in the scenery of this new world and imagined how it would look once the Faranchies and the Cullidons staked their claim. Blizzard knelt down and rested her head on her arm, knowing that all the hard work she and her children had done was about to pay off.

  “Dearest sister,” said a deep, cold voice, which Blizzard recognized instantly. “Don’t you know you’re making a terrible mistake?”

  Blizzard looked up and narrowed her eyes. “Typhoon,” she growled. “I should have known you were going to channel me sooner or later. Anyway, how can you pretend to know my future when you yourself have yet to heal from the thrashing I gave you?”

  “Enjoy your victory while it’s fresh in your mind,” Typhoon replied. “But don’t assume that just because these new creatures are inferior to us they will always know peace. As long as the Faranchies and the Cullidons have brains in their heads and the desire to use them, they will find ways to kill each other.”

  “True,” Blizzard said. “But nothing they could do would be able to match the level of brutality that you achieved.”

  Typhoon laughed. “You sound so sure of yourself. I hate to break it to you, Sister, but you’ve just sowed the seeds of Edon’s destruction.”

  Before Blizzard had time to retort, the beautiful landscape around her disappeared and was replaced by a scene that made Blizzard’s stomach turn. The bodies of hundreds of Faranchies and Cullidons were strewn across red, bloodstained grass, and battle cries echoed from every angle. The clang of swords mixed with the whooshes of arrows and was followed by rabid howls of agony and pain. Near the edge of the valley, where the landscape slowly rose into a small hill, a massive skirmish between Faranchies and Cullidons was commencing. But it appeared that the Faranchies were coming up short, and they were outflanked and outmaneuvered by an army of hardened Cullidon soldiers, their bloodstained silver armor shining in the sunlight. Just as the battle was reaching its breaking point, there was a brief commotion, and a Cullidon general triumphantly stood atop the highest part of the hill. The crowd parted, and Blizzard could see that the general was standing on the body of a dead Faranchie. Blood trickled from its nose and mouth, and its eyes stared blankly into space. Proud of his achievement, the Cullidon general tossed his head back and held his saber high.

  “Victory is ours,” the general gloated. “Edon is ours!”

  The vision ended, and Blizzard snapped back to normal. Horrified, she sprang to her feet and clasped her hands over her mouth. “What did I just see?” she asked.

  “Conflict, chaos, war,” Typhoon replied. “All the things that you swore your new creations would never know.”

  “This can’t be possible,” Blizzard gasped. “You’re lying, you’re…”

  “Have I ever lied to you, Sister?” Typhoon said. “True, I did many appalling things, but I’ve always been a dragon of my word. Rest assured, Blizzard, no matter what you do to prevent it, the dragons of Edon will always find inventive ways to kill one another.”

  Blizzard buried her head in her claws. “Why?” she gasped. “How can something like this happen?”

  “Because you’re not perfect, Blizzard,” Typhoon said. “You, me, and your children may be creatures of the divine, but that doesn’t mean we’re spotless individuals. Therefore, how can you expect your creations to follow a flawless path, when they are less perfect than either of us?”

  Blizzard looked up and narrowed her eyes. “Then I must stop it.”

  Blizzard leaped into the sky. She flew so fast that a cone of air surrounded her midsection, and the sound barrier broke around her with a crack. Wind rushed past Blizzard’s face as she inched closer and closer to the edge of space. When she reached her destination, she spun in midflight, opened her wings, and brought herself to a halt. She hovered, the blackness of the cosmos licking the back of her white scales. Blue fire filled her mouth. She took one final look at her mistake…

  But the longer Blizzard gazed at Edon, a green mass of land in the vast expanse of ocean, the more her anger began to subside. The fire disappeared into the back of her throat, and she bowed her head in shame.

  “Well?” Typhoon asked.

  “What am I thinking?” Blizzard said. “Destruction is what caused me to build Edon in the first place, and destroying it isn’t going to solve anything. It will be just another setback, and dragonkind will not move forward, all because I’m afraid of my own imperfections. I must not destroy something I worked so hard to create, just because things might not work out as well as I would prefer.”

  “Then what do you plan on doing?” Typhoon asked. “You said yourself that you cannot intervene in the lives of
the Faranchies and Cullidons. Are you just going to sit here and let them rip each other to shreds?”

  “I might not have any other choice,” Blizzard said. “In the end, they must work things out on their own. Unless…”

  “What?”

  Blizzard looked upon Edon with intent, and the curvatures of her mouth slowly formed into a defiant smile. “I might not be able to help them face-to-face,” she said, “but there is a way for me to show my hand.”

  Blizzard opened her hand and blew a small jet of fire into her palm. It circled around in midair and took the shape of a small dragon with wings, a head, and a tail. It turned and looked up at its creator, opened its mouth, and let out a shrill, high-pitched squeal.

  “It’s going to be risky,” Blizzard said. “But if Gale’s ever taught me anything, it’s that those who take risks win.”

  “But what if you lose?”

  2

  YEARS WENT BY. HOW many years? A thousand? A million or two? No one really knew for sure. By the time the dragons of Edon created a written language, they had all but lost count of how long it had been since their creation. All anyone knew was that it was the proper length required to build a civilization equipped with a government, a system of law, and its own religion. That religion was centered around the being that gave them life, Blizzard, who for most of Edon’s existence was referred to as the Elder. For a while, things worked well for the Edonions (that was the name they came to call themselves as a collective whole). The two races coexisted peacefully, and while occasional strife was not unusual, outright war and violence rarely occurred. Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, everything changed. War and mayhem became as common as death and taxes, and the fires of hate burned within the hearts of all. When the conflict finally drew to a close, deep wounds were left behind. Some wounds were allowed to heal and turn into ugly, everlasting scars. Others were kept open to fester and bleed. Generations learned to cope with the wounds. They covered them up and tried to live their lives as best they could. But just as with an irritating cut, every time they moved about this world of theirs, they would feel a sting and be reminded of the ugliness that pulled the strings of their society. In most cases, those on the bottom were expected to deal with the pain and keep their heads held high.